Thorned Poems | Examples

Rubber Worms

Truth comes in one golden droplet
you can wait for days -weeks 
or a lifetime for it to appear 
in a dustbowl of faithlessness and doubt...
You wait like a blind baby bluebird
but mom only brings a rubber worm.
Eventually the sweet droplet meets 
the soul's red parched beak
songs are sung in hues of golden love
everything bathed in thankfulness and blessing.

A lie is much more frequent
an endless deluge of infinite confusion
a blue thorned brackish delusion
a fire ball of blame, hate and rage.
It may take a millennium, 
but a lie will collapse under its own toxic weight...
Transparency always devours opaque.

Flower Chide II,the bloomquake

They will not honor your fragrant breath
They’ll use it as ode, or veil, or death.
Not love, but lack—will wear your name,
Your petals will ache beneath borrowed fame.”
Lotus's voice now split Nefarys in bloom and bone
A bloomquake of breath from root to stone.
It hummed through husks and whisperseed dark,
Not all bent—but some curved toward the crack.”

They conjured a crown from the tilt of her head
And wore their suspicion like garlands of dread.
Rose's poise now echoed as plotting or pride
As if grace could not bloom without thorns to hide.
She hadn’t crowned herself, nor thorned by decree
But rumor, like ivy, climbed every tree.

Petalring came, and Nefarys stirred in bloom-fire,
Drifting in garlands, in hymns spun from lyre.
Colors rang louder than the lull they concealed,
And praise filled the air, but one name was sealed.

Rose drew near the rim where the chorus ran high,
And Tulip stepped forward, with a glint in her eye.
“You sit on your throne,” said Lily, stiff and clear,
“This isn’t your place, your roots end here.
Rose turned, not defeated, nor eager to flee—
But as one who had grown past the ring’s legacy.

Soft But Thorned

I am the rose the night can’t drown,? 
A bloom that leans when skies turn down.? 
A myriad stars above me glow,? 
While serpentine winds around me blow.
The lunar hush, it knows my name,? 
A girl of light, a heart of flame.? 
Soft, but built of root and thorn,? 
A thousand times, I’ve been reborn.
One day, they’ll see what hides in me,? 
A queen, unclaimed, yet meant to be.

Masques of Tyranny

Tyranny wears no single face—
it dances in silk and iron,
in laughter rippling through marble halls,
in jeweled cups brimming with poison.

Here stand five shadows cloaked in power:
the Jade Empress who penned her conquests in ink of blood;
the Blood Countess who bathed in youth’s final heartbeat;
the Poison Queen whose roses wilted on royal lips;
the Thorned Mother sculpting her son into a golden idol of death;
the Icon-Breaker who crushed faith beneath her boot.

They moved like vultures through court and corridor,
each step a measured echo of shattered lives.
Their eyes—cold maps of ambition—
charted the fall of poets, princes, innocents.
Their hands—delicate arbiters of suffering—
wrote edicts that carved screams into walls.

Remember: cruelty is not a garment stitched by men alone.
It blooms wherever power dreams of itself
and drinks deep from the wells of mercy’s undoing.

SHROUDED LIGHT

Callously torn in fragile shreds,
I sheepishly snuggle in cozy threads.

Succinctly laced, the cactus leans -
Hope nestled amidst it's thorned scenes. 

To bittersweet melodies, in trance, 
A medley plays, with puppets dance. 

Every errand, a gallop in the meadows wide, 
Yet petals of mahogany dews reside. 

Am I still alive, or lost in posthumous hues?
A sombre ballet, unfolding in view.

When rebellion arises justice takes birth

The old mother-in-law was sent away,
To an old age home without delay.
The daughter-in-law, with silent defiance,
Pushed back without uttering a grievance.

The husband, in his quest to tame,
A heart thorned with pain and blame,
Tried and failed, defeated at last,
By the weight of the past.

To shatter the deceit and face fate's cruel plan,
He turned to his sister, trusting her hand.
With strategy in mind, and revolt in his heart,
He fought back, unwilling to be torn apart.

Her face, once flushed with fiery red,
Softened into a lotus bloom instead.
In her youth, she refused to let them suffer alone,
"We’ll care for them ourselves," she firmly intoned.

The father-in-law and brother-in-law stood in place,
At the crossroads, with a smile on each face.
Justice was born that day, they thought,
And in their laughter, solace they sought.

O'er The Other Side of The Fence

I seek escape from this side of the fence where
Grassy thorns beneath my feet pierce my sole.
Scrambling, ambling, trekking to the freedom
Awaiting on the other side.
I search for pockets in my ascent
Digging trembling fingers inside 
its moulded, muddy enclosures, securing each grip
Then clawing my way up until
I grope my way over.
Lest I should fall as my nimble and bruised tendons
fail me and my blood-thorned feet derail me
Let me land with a thud o’er the other side of the fence
Rather than fall on the familiar turf where my body is forever spent
And my mind, broken and bent.

Reward Of 72 Verge Ends

               All... picks out a variety.
Like roses, plucked.
He chooses a fat one.
He chooses an unwilling one, a willing one. 
How did she get to...?
As long as we are enslaving objects for eternity.
Oh, well. Let's get some red ones, so fiery so
delicate.
The yellow ones will do what you want, 
I will take a dozen, oo she thorned my hand.
You cannot do that this is not Hell masquerading as Heaven.
Or the Devil masquerading as God !
Oh, well. Let's get a dozen black ones ...

Embarrassing

A Mustard Seed

a Mustard Seed

I want to be like a mustard seed
Not a mustard seed 
But what it grows up to be

I want to be the smallest
That grows up to the be the biggest
The one no one sees
Until I sprout my leaves

I want to be a mustard seed
Not the seed
But what it grows up to be

I can only hope I am not thrown into vines
With spiky thorned lines
I can only hope my leaves don’t get mistaken for weeds
When people see me, I want them to remember
I was just like them, just a couple of seeds.

But I broke away 
to become something less gray
When they see my yellow leaves 
I want them to inspired by us trees
But when in need
I want them to remember I was once just
A mustard seed.

Crown

Crown 

I'm disappointed of myself
I don't know how I got here
I don't seem to be able to change
no matter the sea of tears
I keep doing the same
hurting whoever is near
I'm feeling so ashamed
I want to dissapear...

I sit here daily to write
without knowing what to say
I don't know who I want to reach
I don't know what I need to learn
I keep saying that I am better
but that is just bull
when I have to do it again
I make the same mistakes...

And i don't have that much time
to figure all of this out
before I can fix my life
I am not going to be around
and what am I going to bring
with me to the ground?
all the people I've hurt
for having been born with a thorned crown.

Jessica

Down In Up

will it up
grill it up
fill it up to brimming
swill to still those silly cells
drowned in what they’re swimming

press ‘em up
mess ‘em up
dress ‘em up with practice
a hoarder in its order
and thorned as any cactus

mock it up
talk it up
chalk it up to neurons
firing with mis-wiring
the receptors that they were on

hike 'em up
strike 'em up
spike 'em up your coursings
joy's in that sweet poison
tho it's life that you're divorcing

burn it up
churn it up
turn it up to 'leven 
bursting drums, but first it comes
and lies to you like heaven

smoke 'em up
toke 'em up
choke 'em up a-breathing
red, the mud, as thin as blood
to leave your angels seething

tighten up
whiten up
lighten up and torch it
melt the moon into the spoon
and soon you'll swoon to scorch it

wind it down
bind it down
grind it down to fill you
you won't miss
amidst your bliss
the sweetest kiss ... to kill you …

the sweetest kiss.






Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, December 25, 2022

Stories of Missionaries

Missionaries were cunning
Not less than a cat’s eye fixed on a meal with a waggling tail
Curiosity extended in those that heard them speak.
With a thorned crown of dead porcupine.
A pagan king and His ignorant servant standing taller than palm trees
Leaning forward like a falling tower to its knees.

”Story tellers.”

They bring stories on what lies beyond your majesties' kingdom.
A routine of tales sang under a silver silent moonlight
It was Entertainment at a day’s end of a successful hunt.

The tales told to kings articulated volumes of curiosity
As the red fire flowing its light on curious faces, 
The missionaries had learnt to tread softly
Not less than a cat’s eye fixed on a meal with a waggling tail
And so they carried on and drew mass crowds in this likeness.

Our Meadow In Ukraine, a Prayerful Wish

When walls crumble down
And dreams lay strewn and scattered
Remember our place
Deep in the mountain forest
Through the sharp-thorned brush
A meadow creekside
Times like this our shelter built
Roof for our gardens
Fresh flowing water nearbye
Wildflowers in Spring
Bountiful summer veggies
Fireside in Winter
I'll meet you there my true love
If God parts our path
To look once more in your eyes
Pressing your heart against mine


2/26/22

A Walk In the Woods

grandparent's farmland
passed down through generations
apple peach trees grow

overgrown pathways
barb wire fence contains thorned bush
wild berries florish

Compose

I inked the stem of a rose
Of which I shall write and compose

A poem for my endless wish
To create the best literary dish

But for each word I write a thorn pricks me
And my blood changes the tone so miserably

Perhaps next time I'll choose to compose
Without a thorned stem inked through a rose

Friday, January 28, 2022
C Form - Couplet Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France

• Short Thorned Poems
• Famous Thorned Poems
• Best Thorned Poems
• Read Thorned Poems
• Long Thorned Poems
• Thorned Quotes